


Party Animals

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/F, F/M, Friendship, Holidays, Humor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post Bartlett Administration, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-13
Updated: 2008-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14798789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Party; sex; party; sex; you get the picture





	Party Animals

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: CJ/Danny, CJ/OMC, Danny/OFC; alternative universe, total fantasy (or is it?)

 

Rating Adult -- sex and more sex. This one definitely requires that you be old enough to vote and to be bound by your signature on a contract.  
  
  


Because Eleanor, Montiese, and others have told me that \"Paul is hot!\", I figured it was time for a \"PWP\" chapter. (Although there is just enough of one to advance the story and hold the chapter together.)

Spoilers through end of series; possible spoilers for \"Holding Hands on the Way\".  
  
  


Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul.  
  
  


Feedback and criticism always welcomed. 

* * *

(The Present)

**December 9, 2016; 12:30 AM PST; Kensington, CA**

CJ smiled as she heard the door to Caitlin and Dansha’s bedroom open and close. Paul would have known that CJ had checked on the children while he paid the babysitter, escorted her to the waiting taxi, paid the driver for the woman’s ride home, and then locked up the house. But the father/protector inside the man she married would want to verify for himself that Paddy and Jasmine were quietly sleeping (and that Paddy was properly covered), to ensure that the two little girls who worshiped him were undergoing only happy dreams of the magical season.

CJ reached behind her neck to unclasp the dark wine garnets, reflecting that Caitlin was right – the stones did look absolutely stunning with the shimmery gold chiffon of her blouse. Then CJ removed the imperial topaz earrings that Danny had given her when Caitlin was born, to thank her for the daughter who would brighten his final weeks on earth. (CJ thought back to earlier in the evening, when they were dressing for the party and the look that quickly appeared and then quickly disappeared on Paul’s face. She wouldn’t bet her paycheck on it, but she was pretty sure that on Christmas morning, she would be opening a package that contained earrings to match the necklace Paul had given her for Dansha.)

Like everyone else, the Reeves family was running helter skelter through the hectic season marked by religious awe, reverence and wonder alongside the much more ancient anticipation of (followed by joy in) the turning of the solstice and the conquering of dark by light. Last Friday, she and Paul had attended the madrigal dinner (and attendant festivities) sponsored by the Poli Sci department. On Saturday, she and Paul had hosted a party in their home for the staff of the School of Philanthropic Management and for the faculty from the other departments whose courses made up the course of study.

Tonight’s (or, technically last night’s) party had been for the Graduate Theological Union. This year, the event had been sponsored by the Church Divinity School. It had been a very convivial evening. The food was theoretically “cocktail party fare”, but between the shaved roast beef on toast points with horseradish cream, the chicken mini-wraps, the huge shrimp platter, the cheese tray, the crisp vegetables, and the fruit and _petit fours_ array, it was in reality an excellent buffet dinner. The wines, spirits, and liqueurs flowed freely (“We’re Episcopalians, my dear,” the dean of Church Div told her. “Wherever three or four are gathered, there’s a fifth!”) and the conversation followed suit. CJ was glad that Paul agreed with her suggestion that they use a taxi. Her husband never abused alcohol (in all their time together, both now and thirty-five years ago, only two times could she have defined his state as drunken), but when he did have just enough to lose some of the reserve that, for him, his religious vocation and his racial background made imperative, it was good to see him relax.

CJ yawned as she slipped out of her blouse and the black silk and chiffon palazzo pants and hung them in the closet. She sighed in relief as she took off the pantyhose and headed into the bathroom. It had been a long day. First there was the rather unusual 8:15 breakfast meeting with the chairs of the various departments that were part of Philanthropic Management. Then she had to hurry over to the day care and the children’s version of the Nutcracker suite (Dansha was a mouse, Caitlin one of Mother Ginger’s Polichinelles).

“ _Leslie’s dancing Clara this year,” Bernice Dawson bragged to Caitlin Concannon._

“ _Maybe she’ll be almost as good as Danielle was last year,” Danny’s mother replied. No one was going to upstage her granddaughter!_

At two-thirty, CJ had a meeting with her advisor (the man suggested three changes and asked her to strengthen one point before her dissertation was presented to the committee early next semester). Finally, there was the party. For all that she enjoyed socializing with Paul’s associates, CJ always remembered that she was on display as her husband’s spouse and that her words and actions could affect Paul’s career. For example, although the level of political discussion was nowhere near that of the Poli Sci gathering, it was Berkeley, after all, and the recent mid-term elections (the Democrats strengthened their hold on the House, maintained in the Senate, and gained two more governorships) plus speculation about ’18 did play a significant role in the evening’s conversation. Those who remembered her role in Jed Bartlet’s administration kept asking her for “the insider’s view” of the situation, and whether or not Sam Seaborn would run for president in ’18.

But the long day was over and her only plans for tomorrow were to send Paddy off to school and to get ready for their trip to Sacramento and Sam's annual Christmas ball on Saturday.

She had just come back from the bath and had removed her bra when Paul walked into the room. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms under her breasts. His left hand caressed her right nipple while his right hand drifted over her stomach, teasing the edge of her hip-riding panties. He kissed the nape of her neck and then whispered into her ear, telling her that he would be with her shortly. Then Paul headed toward the closet, hung up his suit jacket, removed and hung up the trousers, and went into the bath.

Her day was not quite over; there was one more task to perform. As she had done on most of the nights since she had married this man, she would make love with him.

Not that it **was** a job, or a chore, she giggled to herself as she slipped off her underwear and climbed into bed. In all likelihood, she would be lying in satisfied comfort, drifting off to sleep in twelve minutes, maybe twenty at the max. More often than not, the sex was efficient and quick.

But it was not perfunctory or taken for granted. Many of their sexual unions were subdued, her climaxes warm undulating waves that lifted and lowered her several times over rather than loud quaking and when he released, it was with a mild shudder rather than a vigorous tremor. But afterward, his smile when he looked into her face with love and with thanks for her love, when that smile momentarily brightened when he saw similar love and gratitude in her eyes, when they exchanged delicate little kisses, was always as warm and true as when their passions were more along the lines of the scenes in the drugstore romances to which Carol and Margaret had got her addicted.

And of course, there were many times when they did spend much more time in foreplay, when they might change positions three or four times before exploding with each other. There were times when either because she wanted to, or because he wanted her to, she would pleasure him with hands and mouth until he swore he would burst with need. And then there were the times that Paul fingered, palmed, and mouthed her until she was so fulfilled, so engorged, so swollen with desire that when he did enter her, she was as tight as that very first time. Those times were glorious, were raucous, were intense, and those times satisfied deep needs for the two of them. But then, so did the little “almost very night” couplings like the one she was about to experience as Paul climbed into bed with her, and she turned into his waiting arms.

Paul pulled her close to him and began with a long undulating kiss that she duplicated. Gentle flutters and massages on her breasts were followed by fingers trailing down her stomach to her core. CJ’s mouth moved to his ear and she traced the curves and dips with her tongue; she knew that, combined with her hand tracing the rim of his circumcision, the action would quickly turn satiny wrinkled softness into firm silky steel. The signals that she had somehow learned to give and he had somehow learned to read indicated that he need not take her over the edge once or twice beforehand. Rather, Paul should bring her to aching, throbbing readiness and then fill the void inside her and press his groin against hers so tightly that she couldn’t tell her pulsing from his.

CJ knew that were she falling asleep, in pain, or even just not responsive, Paul would not have pressed her and would have backed away with no indication of displeasure or disappointment (well, maybe just the glimmer of disappointment). She knew that their experience was not the norm, especially for couples of their ages or couples with three young children. She knew that if they weren’t having sex just about every night, it would not mean that their marriage was in any trouble. But she also knew that this nightly little ritual of soothing, relaxing, and reassuring intercourse made their marriage just that much better.

CJ started as she felt Paul’s hand come between their bodies and begin again the combination of circles, pushing, and pulling that he had stopped five minutes ago when he slid into her, replacing the movement of his hand with a steady but not too intense in and out thrusting. There was just the slightest sign of concern in his eyes.

Apparently, her woolgathering about sex was having an effect on the sex that was taking place. She cleared her mind and concentrated on the sensations Paul was raising in her folds and in the pulsating little protuberance enclosed in them.

But for whatever reason, it wasn’t working. It felt good, it felt damn good, but this time, that was as good as it was going to get.

“Don’t worry about me,” CJ whispered into Paul’s ear.

He stopped the movement of his hand immediately, and then began again. “You know it’s no worry, sweetheart,” he said before using his mouth on her right nipple.

“My love, I think this is one of those times,” CJ replied. Then she reached down, teased her fingers along the separation between his buttocks, cupped his testicles, and fondled the two masses, knowing that her actions would rekindle whatever diminishment of desire her inability to climax might have engendered in him.

After Paul released inside her and pulled her with him as he rolled to the side, CJ took hold of his hand and once again held his fingers firmly against her core. Holding them there harder then Paul would have ever touched her of his own accord, she thrust up against him, in much the same way as one presses against an aching tooth. Finally, when she used the heel of her hand to press his palm even more tightly into her, she felt the little pop! that indicated she was on the way to, if not release, at least relief.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Paul whispered against her neck.

“There’s nothing to apologize for; life just got a bit too complicated today.”

“But I should have been able to – maybe if I had used my mouth,” Paul protested.

“Paul Reeves,” CJ gently scolded, “if you keep this up, I’m going to be tempted to break the promise I made thirty-five years ago. I’ve kept mine; you keep yours.”

(The Past)

**Mid-January, early 1980’s; Berkeley CA**

Paul knew immediately.

If he could have stopped he would have, but it was beyond his control. He was young; he was in love; it had been almost two weeks. (Last weekend, she had been recovering from a bad case of something intestinal and with all the wiping, she was chafed as badly as an infant. In fact, he shushed away her embarrassment – “I’ve kissed you there, sweetheart, I can certainly treat your rash” – and soothed her soreness with ointment and cool compresses, the way he had helped his cousin Gary with Gary and Serena’s four-month old daughter Janelle.)

But his ejaculation inside her was an easing of pressure, nothing more. Paul had already begun to think about how to deal with the situation.

How Paul handled the next few minutes would make or break their relationship. He needed to find the right words, the right tone, to combine gentle reprimand with caring, to make sure he did not diminish the seriousness of the situation but at the same time not give her any reason to doubt his love for her.

First, Paul kissed the bridge of her nose; then he traced her brows and the line of her jaw with his forefinger. Usually by this time, he would have shifted off her body, bringing her with him to rest alongside him. However, he wanted to remain as close as possible to her and although he was growing more flaccid by the second, he knew that if neither of them moved, he would remain inside her warmth.

Finally, Paul ran his finger across her lips as her eyes began to reflect beginnings of unease. Resting his hand against the side of her face, he spoke softly.

“Sweetheart, please don’t ever do that again.”

For a quick second, her eyes flashed with guilt; then, just as quickly, they were masked.

“I don’t underst - ”.

“Claudia Jean.”

CJ took in the sad little smile on Paul’s face and her eyes watered. The little teardrops were followed by the babbling that marked her reaction to discomfort, to embarrassment, to overwrought excitement over things she felt passionately. She told him she had a lot on her mind. She was worried that she had bitten off too ambitious a course load for the semester and might not be able to keep up her GPA. Her brother Randy phoned; he, his wife, and his in-laws were coming down from Napa in two weeks and “wanted to meet your boyfriend”. She was sure of her brother but not of Gina’s parents. The new leadership in the Young Dems was all male and wanted to relegate the women to “busy work”. And Laquisha Washington, who was in the room on the other side of the communal bathroom on her dorm floor, made some comment about “leaving the brothers to the sisters”. So when she found herself not reaching, not pushing toward that “something”, she began to try, and as she began to try, she became anxious. She knew that he was holding back, waiting for her, and she didn’t know how to tell him that something wasn’t right. True, he was her first love, but she had read enough, had sat in on enough hen sessions, to know that she was one lucky girl to have someone who cared so much about her pleasure. She didn’t want him to feel lacking.

By this time, CJ was sobbing as well as babbling, (“I’m so sorry, I really am”), so Paul shushed her mouth with a kiss, then with fingers over her lips. He gently sucked away at her tears with his lips and his tongue, then continued to kiss her eyelids while whispering little nonsense words of comfort. Finally, he took her face between his hands, kissed her mouth again, and told her that their relationship had to be based on truth. Yes, there would always be “little white lies”. If there was something wrong with her clothing or hair and she was not in a situation to remedy it, he was going to tell her that everything was fine rather than have her be self-conscious for several hours. If they were with a particular acquaintance of his and she didn’t like the guy, he hoped that she would wait until later to tell him. But total honesty was crucial in their intimacy. He knew that God made men the way they were (“we can be pure sex addicts”) in order to ensure preservation of the species, but he didn’t know why God made women so complicated, didn’t know why their sexuality and their emotions were so intrinsically intertwined. Then Paul asked her if she was having scruples, if she was having feelings of guilt. (And he sighed to himself when she said no. He loved her enough that if he had to give up making love with her for a while, he would have done so; but he was glad he didn’t have to deny himself.) He asked her if maybe she was still a bit uncomfortable; maybe the bout of severe diarrhea and all that it entailed resulted in a minor infection or irritation. Maybe she should go to Student Health for an examination and some cultures. Finally, he told CJ he would spend whatever time it took, undertake whatever technique it took (“There are things we haven’t tried yet, sweetheart”) to make sure that she was fulfilled, but that she had to let him know what worked and what didn’t.

By this time, she was crying again, told him again how sorry she was and wondered how he could ever forgive her.

His gentle smile started on his mouth, spread into his eyes, warmed his entire face.

“Sweetheart, you’ve said you’re sorry. Now just tell me that it will never happen again and we’ll forget all about it and move on to much nicer things.”

So she did.

But CJ also told him that if, in the future, it happened again, if, in spite of everything he might do to her and with her, she “just couldn’t”, she wanted to be able to tell him and still “care take of you”. She made him promise, just as he had made her promise

(The Present)

“And since that time, not with you, not with Danny, not with anyone I’ve ever cared about, I’ve never faked it, my love. I’ve kept faith and I need you to do the same.”

**Sunday December 11, 2016; 1:15 AM PST; the Embassy Suites, Sacramento, CA**

CJ sighed and snuggled further into Paul’s lap as her husband adjusted the arms that were crossed under her breasts. Paul nudged his foot at the little pile (bra, Spanx ™, pantyhose, and slip) that topped the tuxedo jacket and two pair of shoes on the floor in front of the chair he and CJ occupied.

“Carol has good ideas,” Paul whispered into her ear, punctuating each word with a soft sucking kiss on her jaw line.

Forty minutes ago, when the group entered the executive suite, Carol asked CJ to go with her to the bathroom.

“We’re not still at the ball, Carol,” Josh teased them. “Why do you need someone to go with you? Who’s going to accost you in Sam and Morgan’s room?”

But when Carol and CJ emerged five minutes later carrying their little undergarments, (“We needed help with our zippers”), all the other ladies realized how much more comfortable they could be. And Josh was disappointed when Donna was one of two women who did not come back into the living room of the suite carrying a brassiere. She told him it was sewn into the bodice of the strapless bottle green sheath she was wearing. The best she could do was to have Morgan put a safety pin across the back zipper about two inches down from the top, loosen the device to that point “and hope I don’t spill out and share what belongs to you with the other guys. (When questioned by everyone except her fiancé, Ainsley didn’t announce that she wasn’t wearing a bra to begin with tonight; some things should remain between Glen and herself.)

Paul used his mouth to push aside the icy white necklace that circled CJ’s neck and kissed her collarbone. She was wearing the same deep blue dress she had worn in Canada, but she was also wearing the jewels he given her three weeks ago; when the other women admired the pieces, Paul’s ego received a pleasant boost. (He didn’t know that CJ had called Donna and had asked the blonde, as a favor to her, to not wear the diamonds set in platinum that Josh had given to her for their wedding and for Noah’s birth. Donna agreed; she was wearing the blue topazes that Josh gave her to accent the gauzy dress for Carol’s wedding.)

“I must say, Sam,” that your after-parties are as nice as your main events,” David said as he absent-mindedly plaited Carol’s dark tresses into a loose braid.

“Good friends, good scotch,” Rick swirled the heavy cut glass tumbler in his hand, “and a beautiful woman on each of our laps. Life is good.”

“The scotch is good but not as good as Aisling’s,” Paul whispered in CJ’s ear before kissing it again.

“A marvelous end to a marvelous evening,” Jean-Luc agreed.

“Maybe for you old marrieds, it’s the end, but for some of us - ,” Jesse twirled a nonexistent mustache, winked, and left the sentence unfinished.

“Indeed,” Paul said in an overtone to CJ as his thumbs moved up and down the sides of her unbound breasts.

CJ started and then snuggled closer against her husband’s groin. Paul’s attentions were not obvious, were not any more intimate than those being paid by the other men to their wives (or, in Glen’s case, to his betrothed.) But she was glad that he felt comfortable enough with her friends, with **their** friends, she corrected herself, to let down his guard in their company.

Friday night, after the kids had fallen asleep in front of the video and had been carried to bed, Paul had shown her that the events of the previous night were not to be repeated. With teasing playfulness, with expert caressing, and with skillful timing, he had aroused her to the onset of a crashing orgasm and then quickly replaced the dancing fingers with a very solid erection before she knew what was happening. He ejaculated before she finished coming. An hour later, he knelt her over the side of the bed and pounded and palmed her into ecstasy a second time. Garden variety sex it certainly was not. Tonight, between the lateness of the hour and the efforts of driving from Kensington to Sacramento, dining, dancing, and drinking through the ball and this delightful afterglow, she expected that the evening would end more sedately, but in a manner just as satisfying.

“We’re so glad you all could be with us,” Sam told the others as he unconsciously ran his hand under Morgan’s dress and up her leg.

Glenallen Walken looked down at the woman whose head was resting against his shoulder. He still sometimes found it hard to believe that in about eight weeks, this seemingly fragile creature would be standing beside him in heirloom lace and satin, promising again before God, family, and friends what they had already promised to each other in private. It still confounded him that she would trust him, with all his mass, to not crush her when he possessed her, when she brought her legs around his girth, barely able to touch the sole of one foot against the other, and ground her core against him, making the sounds that made her seem more than ever like the delicate little bird she resembled, a delicacy that belied the strength of character, the intelligence of mind, and the integrity of soul that made Ainsley Haynes so much more than the blonde beauty many others saw.

Glen looked around the room and realized that although the company was pleasant, things could be better. As the highest ranking (if only for a few days) person in the room, he took it upon himself to make the executive decision. Gently, he shifted Ainsley off his lap and to his side, lifted himself from the loveseat.

“Gentlemen, thirty or forty years ago, when we were sixteen and seventeen, this was as good as it got. Limited by curfews, pushed by our own insecurities to show off in front of each other, to prove our burgeoning masculinity, perhaps more concerned with our reputations than our pleasure, and that of our companions, we would have continued this communal seduction for hours.”

“ _I have several pleasant and several unpleasant memories of make-out parties,” Helen Santos said as she sipped her spiked eggnog._

“ _What I really hated were the guys who tried to bare your boobs in front of the other boys,” Abbey told the others._

“ _Glen’s right, the group grope was often for the benefit of the other guys,” Leo added._

“ _I preferred the relative privacy of ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’, although the closest I got was a dry hump,” Percy Fitzwallace said with a gravelly laugh._

“ _I seemed to have the worst luck with ‘Spin the Bottle’. I always got the real losers.” Delores Landingham sighed._

“ _Yes, it all depended on the laddie,” Brianna giggled in agreement._

“ _An’ how many other laddies were there now,” Jem asked. “After all, ye were only seventeen when we married.”_

“ _Tal and I met playing Post Office.” Kathleen Cregg smiled at her husband._

“ _Disgusting!” Esther Dawson grumbled. “Tell me you didn’t do any of that, Alicia. Alicia? Where’s Alicia?”_

“ _Some things are better just between two people,” Danny whispered as he and Alicia snuck off toward Cassiopeia’s Chair._

“ _Indeed.”_

“ _Kissing! Ick!”_

_Cosmas, Damian, and Theo ran off, intending to drop the frogs in their hands down the backs of Danielle and Leslie._

“But now we are grown men, successful men,” the man from Illinois opined. “We all have pleasant accommodations elsewhere in this inn. I, for one, would prefer to continue this in the privacy of my room and the comfort of my bed. I suggest you do the same.”

“You know, for a Republican, the man has some pretty good ideas,” Josh said as Glenn helped Ainsley to her feet and toward the door.

The others followed suit. Paul gave CJ a gentle little push, stood up, and then bent down for the shoes, the jacket, and the bits of feminine infrastructure. Everyone made plans to meet for breakfast at about 10:30.

Paul and CJ were just down the hall and they walked to their suite arm in arm. CJ took the things from him when they reached their door, so Paul could reach into his pocket for the key card.

CJ put the things on the coffee table as Paul fastened the dead bolt.

“Darling, would you undo my zip - ”.

Paul turned her around, backed her against the wall, and stopped her words with a deep open mouthed kiss. His right hand pulled up her skirts, dipped under them, and pulled the one remaining undergarment to her ankles and off her feet. Then he knelt down in front of her, pulled her left leg over his right shoulder, and, steadying her with his left hand at her waist, put his right hand on her backside and pressed her tight against his mouth.

His nose was working the throbbing nub, his tongue was washing up and down the length of her, his lips had formed a seal around her outer ones. CJ trembled. Fearful of falling, she tried to steady herself by bracing her hands on his shoulders. Her climax tore through her like a tornado and her elbows collapsed. Paul’s hands held her tight against his face, supporting her from the waist down. Were it not for the wall behind her, she would have fallen over his left side.

As CJ returned to some semblance of reality, Paul lowered his right shoulder and shifted it from under her leg. Bracing her against the wall, he stood and put an arm on each of her shoulders, resting his forehead against hers.

Paul considered lifting her into his arms and carrying her into the other room, then considered the amount of champagne, wine and scotch he had consumed, and decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

Paul pulled his head back and smiled into his wife’s eyes.

“Now I’m ready to follow the former President’s directive.”

**December 17, 2016; 10:15 PM PST; San Luis Obispo, CA**

“Oh, by the way, Paul, I met your brother last week. He seems like a great guy.”

When pressed for an explanation by a somewhat puzzled Paul and CJ, Jessica explained that she, Laura Robbins, and Diana Muñoz were having an impromptu lunch on the pier in Santa Monica when Clara and Alex walked by their table.

CJ was about to ask more questions when Matt Santos came up to the table where CJ, Paul, and Jessica were sitting.

“If I may interrupt, may I have this - ”

He really should be asking me for permission, Paul thought to himself. That is what men do, even if nowadays the proper reply to such a question is that it is up to the woman. Just three weeks ago, Franklin Hollis had called him, saying, “If you have no objections, I’d like to ask CJ to take Terry McGovern’s place on the board in July, when his term expires.”

But then Paul saw the smile that couldn’t mask the sadness in the former president’s eyes and remembered what it was like to attend your first social event since losing a beloved wife. It was only eight months since Helen Santos passed.

“dance, Jessica?”

“Indeed you may, Mr. Pres- ”

“Matt, please,” the man said, his smile momentarily brightening as the willowy blonde accepted his hand and walked away from the table.

Secretly, Paul was relieved, although the young widower was one of the few men in the room with whom he would trust his wife tonight.

Earlier in the evening, dressing for the Hollis Foundation Christmas party at Bonnie and Jean-Luc’s, Paul knew that CJ had bought a new dress and that he had not yet seen it.

As he left the bathroom, Paul glanced over at CJ and then stopped, turned around and stared at her. CJ was reaching for a black dress hanging on the closet door. She was wearing a black half slip, sheer black hose, and black sandals with two-inch heels. But she appeared to have nothing on above her waist.

CJ sensed that she was being observed and turned to face her husband. Paul saw that her breasts were covered by what appeared to be two detached bra cups in a beige shade and he remembered seeing similar items in the shops when he purchased lingerie for first Alicia and then CJ.

CJ smiled at him as she slipped the dress over her head.

From the front, the dress appeared extremely modest. The halter top covered her bosom completely and the two sections met right below the start of the swell of the breasts. The skirt, several layers of chiffon over a black silk underskirt, ended about an inch below her knees.

“Do the zipper and help me hook the straps,” CJ asked, indicating the two pieces that would meet behind her neck. When she turned her back to him, he saw why she was wearing the adhesive stick-on bra cups. There was absolutely no fabric from the waist up.

After Paul pulled up the zipper and hooked the two pieces of cloth at the nape of her neck, he noticed that the sides of the dress were extremely loose; he could see under them to what appeared to all the world to be naked orbs of flesh.

Paul had never asked either of his wives not to wear something and he didn’t want to start now, so he reminded himself that CJ would never to anything that would imply she was anything less than a lady.

However, CJ must have seen something on his face because after she turned to him, holding something labeled “dress and lingerie tape” (“Stick it on me, and then stick the sides of the dress onto it; it’s double-sided.”) her face grew a bit uncertain.

“I did bring along the palazzo pants and a black and gold brocade tunic if you would rather - ”.

“ _Yes, you_ _ **would**_ _rather!” Danny insisted._

Paul quickly kissed her, said that he was sure everything would be fine, except that he was a bit nervous about having the most stunning date at the party.

“So let’s get you taped up.”

Once fastened in place, the dress did look amazing on her. And the icy white topaz and sterling jewelry sitting on the dresser would be dazzling against the inky blackness.

But Paul did decide that CJ would dance almost all of the dances with her husband.

So now, Paul smiled at her. “Shall we, sweetheart?” (He couldn’t decide whether it was better to put his right hand on her bare back or on her fabric covered butt, and switched back and forth before deciding on the former.)

“So, Alex and Clara,” CJ said, smiling up at him.

“And you had nothing to do with it,” Paul laughed.

“No, but if it does turn out to be something, I’m happy for both of them.”

Late last February, CJ and Paul were very upset when Paul’s older brother came to them, devastated, and told them that after over thirty years of marriage and three grown children, Eve told him that she “needed to find herself” and was filing for divorce. (“It was two days after Valentines’ Day, Paul! She seemed perfectly happy with the dinner, the bracelet. We had great sex,” Alex told him, almost in tears.) Paul tried to talk with his sister-in-law, but soon realized that something was driving Eve to this decision and that, in the long run, the dissolution would be the best thing for Alex, so he did his best to counsel his older brother (“You can’t force her to stay, you know.”) and convinced him not to fight the divorce and to agree to an equitable division of the property.

Alex had his ups and downs. One of his down periods came while CJ and Paul were at Lake Louise and two days before they were due to come home, Alex made a spur of the moment decision to show up at the door of the house in Kensington.

After being welcomed with shouts of “Uncle Alex!” and being jumped on by Paddy and Caitlin, Clara invited the Army colonel into the house (“You can sleep in Derrick’s bed, Uncle Alex!”) and said that of course he must stay until his brother and sister-in-law returned. When the four of them went out to dinner the night before Clara returned to Santa Monica, the conversation was relaxed and easy. Alex seemed to be feeling better. He told Paul that he was throwing himself into his medical work. In fact, he was up for brigadier general.

Alex left three days later, feeling much better. The younger Reeves family told him that he would be more than welcome to spend the Christmas holiday with them. Paddy even offered to sleep on the floor of Caitlin and Dansha’s room so Alex and Derrick could use his bedroom.

As the set ended, Paul and CJ found themselves by the table where Derrick was seated with the young French professor he had met the night before at Bonnie and Jean-Luc’s party. Paul and CJ talked with Natasha while Derrick went to get a fresh bottle of champagne and clean flutes.

When the band came back from its break, Derrick asked his father for permission to dance with CJ. Derrick was one of maybe eight men (Matt Santos, Sam Seaborn, Franklin Hollis, Glenallan Walken, Jean-Luc Fallières, Jesse Muñoz, and the chaplain of Cal Poly’s Newman Club were the others) in the room to whom Paul had no objection as a partner for CJ, so Paul immediately told his son that “I have no problem if your stepmother has no problem” and Derrick and CJ joined the other dancers.

As Derrick danced with CJ, he realized that he envied his father this evening. His father might have only the second most beautiful woman in the room as his companion, but unlike himself, the man whose date was the most beautiful, his father’s evening would (unless Derrick was totally off base about Natasha) have an infinitely more pleasant ending than would Derrick’s.

Even if CJ weren’t his father’s wife, Derrick would have only respectful admiration for her. As beautiful as she was, as alluring was her perfume, and as tastefully sexy was her little black dress, CJ was old enough to be his mother and Derrick knew that even if CJ were single, she would be attracted to someone like his father, someone with the grace and elegance that fifty plus years brought to a man. And Derrick knew that while he didn’t mind that Natasha (“the future Mrs. Derrick Reeves, but she doesn’t know it yet”) was sixteen months older than he was, Derrick also knew that he was not the type to look for a “Mrs. Robinson”.

But he was jealous that his father would have a delightful, delicate, delicious smelling creature in his bed tonight. And even if his father did not have sexual intimacy with his stepmother (a concept Derrick felt was highly unlikely), his father would have the comfort of her presence beside him.

Derrick looked up and saw that his father was dancing with Natasha. The two of them were talking easily and Natasha seemed to be enjoying being on the dance floor with his father. Excellent. If Natasha thought that Derrick was anything like his father, it could only be a good thing.

**December 18, 2016; 12:20 AM; home of Bonnie and Jean-Luc Fallières**

When they checked on the kids, Dansha was sniffling a bit, so CJ stayed behind to coat her little chest with VapoRub ™ while Paul proceeded to their room.

Paul had taken off his shoes and socks, his dress shirt, and his undershirt by the time CJ came into the room.

“What a wonderful evening,” she said as she kicked off her shoes and pulled off her hose. “And Derrick seems to be quite taken with Natasha, doesn’t he?” She took off the jewelry and walked up to her husband.

“Help me with the dress?”

Paul gently pulled at the sides of the dress, loosening the tape from her skin. Then he reached behind her neck and unhooked the two straps.

“Do these pull off by themselves?” he indicated the cups covering her breasts.

“Gently; not like my band aids,” CJ said the two of them smiled, remembering their first time together so many years ago.

But after she was bared, CJ looked up at Paul with questions in her eyes. Her husband had refastened the halter top around her neck.

“I’ve thought about nothing but doing this all night,” Paul whispered in her ear. Then he started humming and danced her around the room. His arms were wrapped tightly around her back and reached under the loose sides of the dress, playing with her and pressing her unfettered softness tightly against him. She could feel him lengthening against her and reached for his zipper.

Pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them. The dress’ zipper was undone and the halter straps once more unfastened. The black silkiness joined the dark grey wool on the rug and the slip soon followed. Finally, silk boxers and silk panties joined the other pieces of clothing.

A quick check with his fingers; they squeaked in the warm wetness. Paul lifted her slightly and she was impaled on him. Creamy arms surrounded cinnamon shoulders; ivory legs wrapped around a mahogany trunk; strong brown arms supported a pale bottom. Luckily, the bed was only five feet away.

Seven minutes later, she stiffened and squealed as he shook and grunted.

Two miles away, Derrick Reeves stepped out of the cold shower and tried not to think of either his parents or of the Arizona BA, Chicago PhD who had kissed him goodnight with a smile and firmly shut her condo door in his face.

**Sunday, January 1, 2017; 1:15 AM; Kensington, CA**

“Good night, Alex, thanks again, for staying with the kids, and Happy New Year. See you in the morning.”

CJ reached up, kissed her brother-in-law’s cheek, and headed toward the bedrooms.

With any luck, this would be the last party for a while. Valentine’s Day was six weeks away. Damn, she forgot about the Super Bowl. 

Not that the Reeves were hermits or agoraphobic, but this particular holiday season had been one event after another, an average of two a week since Thanksgiving if you counted the family parties at Mary Mag and at Paul’s church. (All three kids had roles in the children’s pageants. Dansha was a lamb in both. Caitlin was an angel at Paul’s church and a camel at CJ’s. Paddy was a shepherd at Paul’s and Caspar at Mary Mag.) 

In fact, she and Paul usually didn’t go out on New Year’s Eve, preferring to spend the time at home, but Spencer and Lydia Gunn had just signed over to the church a living trust with three million dollars in principle, and Paul felt as if the invitation was really a command couched in pleasantry. 

Alex had spent Christmas with his middle son and family, but did come to stay with them on the 27th. Alex told them that he would indeed be promoted and would be director of the hospital at Fort Irwin, just east of Barstow. (When CJ asked how he could stand being in Barstow, of all places, Alex told them that “although it’s not engraved in stone”, he had been told that in two years, when the man in charge at Livorno retired, “I’ll have right of first refusal”.) When pressed about Clara, Alex did admit to finding her company enjoyable and that 140 miles one-way was not that bad a drive. Yes, of course, he wasn’t going to rush headlong into anything, but then, in two years’ time, if things worked out, well, after all, Clara did have family in Greece.

Derrick had come up for Christmas, of course, but left on the 29th. There was a party in San Luis Obispo and Natasha Montmorency had agreed to cut short her time in Arizona in order to go with him. CJ told Derrick that Natasha seemed like a very nice young woman and that Derrick could do a lot worse. Derrick told CJ that he totally agreed with her and only hoped that Natasha didn’t think that **she** couldn’t do much worse than himself. 

_“The girl has a PhD; she’s got to be smart enough to see that my baby is perfect for her,” Alicia said to Hugh Stewart._

_“Ah, the lass is keen, ta be sure, but book smart dinna always mean heart smart.”_

Deborah wasn’t with them. This year, it was Tom’s turn to fill in for another resident who was marrying over the holiday, so for the first time, their family was incomplete at Christmas.

After checking on the kids, CJ walked into the bedroom, kicked off her shoes, and dropped the ubiquitous black palazzo pants to the floor. This time, they had been topped by a white satin blouse with little spaghetti straps and stitched horizontal pleats over her bust. She had once again worn the garnet necklace, but she also wore the pieces that Paul had indeed given her Christmas morning. The bracelet was a smaller copy of the necklace, but the earrings were absolutely stunning. She was at a complete loss for words when she opened the box to see two garnet round-cut stones, about two carats each. From each stud, four little arcs comprised of four half-carat marquise cut stones radiated in a half-fan pattern. Tonight, she had worn her hair pinned back at the sides in order to showcase the jewelry and she was the envy of every woman at the Gunn’s party.

Stripped of her clothing and her stones, she slipped into a violet negligee (another present from her husband) and got into bed. 

Paddy would be back in school on Tuesday. Classes at Berkeley wouldn’t start for almost two weeks and since Paul wasn’t teaching during PSR’s intersession, he had no classes scheduled until the end of the month. Of course, there was always bureaucratic work involved with the start of a new term, but their calendars would be lighter than usual. Therefore, they decided to see how Caitlin and Dansha would manage being in day care from 9:00 to 3:30, five days a week, for the next two weeks.(“Our Christmas present to ourselves,” Paul had said with the smile that still caused little quakes to travel from her breasts to between her legs and to start the moisture flowing in those folds.)

She must have dozed, but she woke when she felt the mattress shift as a naked Paul joined her. Smiling, she turned to him. Her fingers stroked down his hip as his fingers stroked up hers, bringing the gown with it. As their mouths worked magic one on the other, she opened her legs, first to his knee, then to his thigh, and finally to the long, thick, and pulsating hardness that both of them knew would be enough for her tonight.

The new year was less than two hours old, but it already was a very good year. 


End file.
